Angels and Demons
by starrylaa
Summary: Sam rescues his brother from Hell, but finds him spiralling back downwards. Dean battles with the consequences of coming back from the dead and both are left to deal with the Apocalypse that just won't wait.
1. Prologue

Prologue

**Prologue**

He just wants his brother back.

_Dean, are you okay?_

He doesn't know where to start.

_Are you okay?_

He's not sure if he can cope. He certainly doesn't know how to do this without him by his side.

_Are you okay, Dean?_

Knew that even if he got him back that he'd never be the same. Severely traumatised, severely angry and severely broken. He's considered all the possibilities.

_You will be okay, won't you?_

He's exhausted every source to try and get to him.

_Please tell me you're okay._

It starts with a "Dear God, how do I do this?" before he's even halfway there to getting him.

_Dean, wherever you are I'll find you._

And never ends in hope.


	2. Where Angels Fear to Tread

**Chapter One- Where Angels Fear to Tread**

_November 2__nd__ 1986_

_His dad was sitting on the bed, staring into nothing and clear anguish written on his face._

_Sammy doesn't notice._

Daddy's here. Daddy's **actually **here.

_He gazes up at him from his sitting position on the floor, watching his father in awe. After a while he looks down at a little figurine of an angel in his hands. He thinks it might be a Christmas ornament, and loving its colour, he took it from the motel lobby. Nobody noticed when he did._

"_Daddy?"_

_John Winchester snaps out of his trance and looks down at his youngest son._

"_Are angels real?"_

_John takes a while to answer. "I don't know, son," he answers finally. "I hope so."_

_Sammy ponders this. "Do you think Mommy is an angel?"_

_John looks shocked at the mention of his wife. "I hope so, Sammy." He scoops the young boy up and into his lap. Sammy's deep, thoughtful eyes lock onto his. _

"_So that means Mommy is in Heaven?"_

_John smiles sadly. "God, I hope so, Sammy. There has to be a place where we can see your mother again." He holds his son close to him and as Sammy goes back to studying his angel, he doesn't notice the tears running down his father's face._

_From the bathroom doorway, a young Dean leans his head against the door, having heard the whole conversation. His fists are clenched tightly by his side and his eyes brimming with tears._

"_There's no such thing as angels," he whispers fiercely. "No such thing." _

**Present day**

Sam leant against the bathroom doorway and stared intently at his brother. Dean was sat in front of the tv legs propped up on the coffee table, beer in one hand and a bag of chips in the other, laughing away at what was on the screen.

It was damn good to have him back, even if he had entered the phase of recovery which involved not moving his ass away from the tv. And yeah, maybe he had gained a few pounds and his hair was starting to look more and more like his own, but anything had to be an improvement to the state he had been in when he first got out of Hell.

"Yo, Sammy! Look at this!"

Sam walked up to Dean, hands in pockets and raised an eyebrow in question.

Dean pointed to the screen, where a blonde girl in leather was parading around with some sort of weapon in her hand.

"Me and this Buffy chick? We have loads in common."

Sam grinned. "Oh yeah, what's that then?"

"We're both hot, obviously." Sam rolled his eyes at this. "We're both snappy with our lines, we're both good with weapons, oh and yeah, we both came back from the dead."

"Wow, you're soul mates," he replied drily.

"I can't believe I never watched this show before," Dean said, ignoring Sam's comment.

"_Anyway,_ I'm going to see Bobby today. Are you coming?"

"I need to watch the rest," Dean mutters, eyes transfixed on the screen and clearly not listening to a word of Sam's.

"Dean are you even listening to me?"

"Isn't Buffy just amazing? She gives so much yet takes so little."

"Dean, I'm going to see Bobby. In your car. And then I'm going to a bar to pick up some stranger. And then we're going to make mad, passionate love. In your car. And then I'm going to drive your car off a ravine."

Dean turned around to look at him. "Did you just say something?"

Sam rolled his eyes again. "Never mind. I'm going to see Bobby."

"Are you taking my baby?"

"If that's okay."

Sam waited for the part where Dean said that it sure wasn't okay.

"Yeah, okay. Whatever."

He sighed to himself. Phase two of Dean's recovery was his general indifference to everything, but most shocking of all was that he didn't seem all too concerned about his Impala, and he had to admit to himself that he missed that certain personality trait of his brother's.

He drove over to Bobby's with a heavy heart, knowing that even though Dean was back, they still had so much to go though before everything would be okay again.

Bobby was outside working on a car.

"Hey Bobby," Sam greeted just as Bobby pulled himself up from under the car.

"Sam!" Bobby greeted with slightly more enthusiasm than usual. Now that they had Dean again, Bobby became a mixture of affectionate and protective over the boys, as if he were afraid of losing either one of them again. "How's your brother doing?"

Sam shrugged. "Better. He's still eating. He's eating quite a lot actually. And he seems to have procured a tv addiction."

"Well, so long as he's better than he was. Give him a while more and he'll be back to normal."

"I don't think after something like this he can ever be normal again."

"Well, as best as he can be then. Have you and Dean talked about what happened yet?"

Sam shook his head. "Dean refuses point blank to even talk about what he went through. The word "hell" is forbidden to say and he likes to pretend what he went through was nothing worse than a trip to the dentist's."

"That sounds like the Dean I know."

There's a moment silence, and both men think about what Dean could have gone through.

"He should tell you, you know," Bobby carries on. "It's not good for him to keep all that bottled up. A guy can go crazy doing that."

Sam smiles ruefully. "Dean would think it too high a chick flick moment."

Bobby smiles at this. "Well, what about you? Have you told him how you got him out?"

"He dodges the subject every time I try and bring it up. And anyway, it's not exactly easy saying 'Oh by the way Dean, I got you out of Hell by going to see Missouri who told me to go and talk to Mom to help get you out. And yeah, contacting her was real easy by the way.'"

They lapse into silence again as they both think about the battle they endured to get Dean out. It had been remarkable, Sam had to admit, and even though he had tried, he wasn't sure how to tell Dean what had happened without the risk of breaking him even more than he had already been broken. News like that could only seek to hurt him. And Sam had no idea how to tell Dean that he'd gone through the one thing Dean ever truly wanted: being with their mom, even if it was only for a little while.

Bobby sighs. "Like it or not, Dean is going to have to pull himself together and sort things out. There's a war coming, Sam. Not the pitiful trickle of demons we got when Lilith showed up. I'm talking hordes of demons and it's going to get ugly. We're going to need all the help we can get."

Out of habit, they both looked up at the sky. Sam noted that the sky was unusually dark for this time of year. They hadn't seen much of the sun for a while, and if things went the way it did, they might never see it again.


	3. How's Your Halo?

**Title:** Angels and Demons 2/?

**Chapter Title: **How's Your Halo?

**Series:** None

**Rating:** PG13 for now

**Pairing/Characters:** Sam, Dean, Bobby, OFC (friendship)

**Summary: **He needed a helping hand from Heaven before he could get his brother out of Hell. But can anyone ever be okay coming back from Hell? And exactly how do you stop the world from ending when you're not sure you can save yourself? Dean and Sam deal with the aftermath of Dean returning from Hell whilst realising that the present has a funny way of running into the past and discovering that demons and other such evil aren't the only things to walk this Earth.

"_Do you ever get sick of it all?" _

_A sixteen year old Dean looks up from his sprawled out position on the bonnet of his father's car, and sees his brother standing before him. Small for his age, Sam looked even smaller from Dean's vantage point._

"_Sick of what?"_

_He expects an answer about having to hunt or not being able to lead a normal life._

"_Always having to look after me?"_

_He sits up at the question and stares intently at Sam. Sam looks back at him with big, soulful eyes, the kind that showed every emotion and vulnerability his brother had._

"_What makes you say that?"_

"_Because you're the only one who's ever here for me, even when I can tell you'd rather be hanging out with them older boys."_

_Dean hated it when Sam went in one of his girly moods. "You can be a real pain in the ass sometimes," he says, and watches as Sam's face crumples. "But," he continues, "I'd never get sick of looking after you."_

"_But why?"_

"'_Cos I'm your big brother, aren't I? It's my job to look out for you, no matter what."_

_Sam's face lights up at this, and he comes and joins Dean on the bonnet._

"_You won't always be bigger than me," Sam says pensively. _

_Dean smirks. "I won't count on it, Sammy. You'll always be little to me."_

* * *

"I'm not used to calling the shots."

The statement hung out there in the air, and he was glad to have got that particular thought off his chest.

"What?" Bobby said.

"Being responsible," Sam answered in way of explanation. "I'm not used to it. Dean was always the one calling the shots. When we were younger he was the one playing mom and dad first, brother later. He was the one who used to cook me dinner and sacrifice his well earned treat for me so he could make me happy. He was the one always protecting me and making sure I never got hurt, and the one who decided how we took care of things and he never complained. And now the roles have switched and I'm the one looking after him and I never knew how hard it was for him or how to go about this and do a good job."

Bobby sighed. "Nobody should have had the upbringing you two kids had. Your brother shouldn't have had to look after you the way he did. It's the one gripe I had about your Pa. You're doing a good job, Sam."

"Yeah, somehow I have trouble believing that. My last brotherly responsibility was to make sure Dean didn't die and look how well that turned out."

"You can't stop the inevitable, son."

"People said that about the Spanish Armada too."

"Yeah, well demon contracts aren't a fleet of poufy boats. Listen boy. There ain't no point dwelling on what could have been. You know that won't get you anywhere. Dean's back now. I wish that could have been the ending point to all this, but we're fighting a war. Lose a battle but win a war. The only thing you can do is think forward and learn what you can along the way."

Sam nodded at this, eyes pensive and trained his gaze around Bobby's salvage yard.

"We're going to need weapons," he said, eyeing up the scrap pieces of metal scattered around.

"As if I'd let you touch my auto car parts! Rumour has it that there's a demon hunter in Chicago who has created weapons for fighting demons. I'm not talking about some crappy ward-off-evil pendant; I'm talking real state-of-the art weaponry."

"Really? What, like guns and stuff?"

Bobby shrugs. "Possibly. I'll give Ellen a ring later and ask her about it. If rumour is right, it's something to get excited about. Damn salt guns and salt lines ain't gonna do us much good when push comes to shove."

"Well that's great news. You call Ellen and let me know, okay? Maybe I can go and meet this hunter."

Bobby nods in acknowledgement and Sam starts to make his way off.

"Sam?"

Sam turned around.

"Just for the record, I'm glad you didn't shut me out when Dean died. Losing him was hard enough, but if I had lost you too..."

Sam immediately thinks back to his previous encounter with the trickster and a world filled with solitude and immense hatred, and thinks he's glad he didn't choose that particular path, instead choosing to channel such intense emotion into freeing his brother.

Sam gave a small smile. "Me too, Bobby."

"You boys don't have to stay in that motel forever, you know. I wouldn't mind if you came back and stayed here."

"I know, Bobby. When Dean's ready we'll come back. And plus, you probably needed a reprieve from us messing up your house."

"That's never been an issue."

Sam smiled again. "Thanks Bobby. For everything."

* * *

Dean wondered briefly if he had a problem. He'd been sitting in front of the tv for five hours straight, only taking a toilet break twice.

His imaginary "Occasionally moral Dean" voice wondered whether it would be a good idea to do something more constructive. His "Extremely corrupt yet still sexy Dean" voice ruled this out by stating that he'd been in _Hell _and hence was entitled to indulge in whichever of the seven sins he wanted.

And yes, he'd be pulling that card for as long as Sam would let him get away with it. Which could mean a while as Sam was still feeling guilty about having his brother endure so much, although Dean predicted his tolerance would be tested to the limits. "Extremely corrupt but still sexy Dean" voice pointed out that he had two months of loss time to make up for not bugging his brother. Four if you counted the catatonic state he'd been in when he initially got back.

Anyway, tv offered such compulsive viewing. He'd spent how many years on the road? When in all that time he could have spent on a couch, drinking beer and slowly losing brain cells. He rather liked that idea. It was better than the reality he had to contend with.

Dean was pleased to discover that another Buffy episode was on. Not only did he totally identify with this Buffy chick, but he thought she was totally hot. If she were real and the two of them got together, only great, great things could happen.

His train of thought was interrupted by the arrival of Sam.

"Please tell me you've moved since I last saw you."

Dean shrugged. "Sure…?"

Sam cast a glance at the screen and raised an eyebrow. "You're watching more Buffy?"

"They're showing non-stop episodes."

"The way you're drooling over her is disturbing."

Dean shrugged again. "So how did your thing go with Bobby?"

"My "thing" went fine."

"Oh yeah? What did you guys talk about?"

Sam looked as if he was going to speak and then stopped.

"Nothing," he replies. "Nothing important. Just the end of the world and stuff."

"Man, I do so love those kind of conversations."

"So what episode are you watching?"

"The one where Buffy turns invisible. Wanna watch?"

Sam looks intently at his brother. "Sure."

"You know, you would probably dig this Willow chick."

Sam grinned. "I don't think she'd dig me back."

"Why not?"

"Dean, have you been paying any attention to any character besides Buffy?"


	4. And in the darkness bind them

**And in the Darkness Bind Them**

**Title:** Angels and Demons 1/?

**Chapter Title: **And in the darkness bind them  
**Rating:** PG13 for now

**Words: **1,623  
**Pairing/Characters:** Sam, Dean, Bobby, OFC (friendship)

**Summary: **He needed a helping hand from Heaven before he could get his brother out of Hell. But can anyone ever be okay coming back from Hell? And exactly how do you stop the world from ending when you're not sure you can save yourself? Dean and Sam deal with the aftermath of Dean returning from Hell whilst realising that the present has a funny way of running into the past and discovering that demons and other such evil aren't the only things to walk this Earth.

**Disclaimer: **This world belongs to Kripke. I am just playing with it. Post NRFTW.

**Author's Note: **I would appreciate any reviews :D

_A four-year-old Dean sat on the bonnet of his dad's car with his dad and baby brother, watching with increasing despair as their house burnt down, and everything he had ever known and believed in melted away with the flames._

_What was left behind was the darkness that took away his mother. He could see it radiating in waves off the house; could sense it in the shadows sweeping around what was left of his family. Most of all, he could feel it wrapping around his heart and knew without a doubt that this feeling would never fade. _

The door creaked open and there was a sound of rustling as someone stepped through.

"Nice of you to drop by," another voice called out sarcastically.

"Well hello, _mother._"

Sam scowled at the name, and looked on at his brother standing in the doorway.

"You didn't tell me you were going out," he stated.

Dean gave him an incredulous look. "I'm sorry, Sergeant. Was I supposed to report in to you?"

Sam rolled his eyes. It was a few days after he had gone to see Bobby and his brother had already entered phase 3, or so it seemed.

"No, it's just you've barely moved out of this room since we've been here. And then you disappear for a night and you expect me not to worry?"

"What, you think I might go and do something crazy and end up killing myself?"

Sam shrugged.

"I'm a big boy, Sammy."

"I know."

Silence hung in the air.

"So what did you do last night?" Sam finally asked.

Dean raised an eyebrow.

"_Oh._" Sam raised his own. "Well, it's good that you've, you know, got back in the game so quick."

Dean smirked.

"Anyway, I bought breakfast if you're hungry." Sam held up a box of warm pancakes.

Dean's eyes lit up in response.

Sam watched him devour his food in such a way that he thought his brother had inhaled it, all the while tapping his fingers impatiently.

"You got a problem?" Dean asked.

"No."

Dean raised an eyebrow again.

"Okay, fine. Dean, we have a problem."

"What kind of problem?"

"A the-demons-are-coming-in-an-apocalyptic-kind-of-way problem."

"Oh, no. He-_ck_ no. I'm not doing this anymore Sammy."

"You're not doing this anymore?" he echoed. "Dean, I don't think we have a choice."

Dean's eyes darkened. "Why does it have to be our job, huh? Sammy, I'm sick of this."

Sam sighed. He'd heard these words long before Dean died, of course, and had understood his despair then. He understood it even more now.

"I know, Dean. And I know with what you've been through fighting is the last thing you want to do. But we have to."

"Why?"

"Because someone has to fight."

"There are other hunters out there."

"But they barely stand a chance."

"And you think we do?"

Sam smiled wryly. "With what we've been through, Dean, we could probably go back and take on World War II single handed and win."

"With what I've been through, I've seen enough to know it's not worth it," Dean said quietly. Sam looked at him in shock. This was the first time Dean had mentioned what he endured in his trip downstairs.

"I can't walk away from this, Dean, even if you can. I'm part of all this. Really, isn't it all my fault?"

"You know that's not true. This life? We never chose it. It chose us."

"And that's why I have to keep fighting. After this is all over, and we all live, I swear I'm going to quit. Find a decent, boring job, somewhere really boring. But until then…"

Dean stood up.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked.

"Away from all this crap."

"Dean!"

Dean stood at the doorway. "See you later, Sammy." With a slam of the door, he was gone and Sam was left looking at his retreating figure.

_Don't you see, Dean? You're not the only one fighting your own demons. There's an evil growing inside of me, but I'll be damned if I let it win. I have to fight this._

Sam sighed again and picked up his phone to call Bobby.

"Dean's disappeared," he informed him when Bobby answered.

"You mean he's actually got off his backside and finally gone somewhere?"

Sam smiled at this. "Yeah, in a stroppy teenager sort of way, I'd say so."

"'Bout bloody time. Look boy, don't you worry about your brother. I'm sure he can handle himself."

"Yeah? I'm not sure that's exactly a good thing."

"He'll be fine, Sam."

"I suppose."

"So have you inquired about the hunter with weapons?"

"Yeah, actually. Made a few calls and got hold of a guy who gave me an address for some place in Chicago. I'm going to go and investigate today."

"In Dean's car?"

"I have the keys."

Bobby laughed. "You mean that boy has gone off _walking _somewhere?"

Sam smiled again. "It's been known to happen."

"Do you need me to come with you? I've got a few cars to sort out, but I can spare some time if you need me."

"No, it's alright, Bobby. I think I've got this one."

"Alright, but you be careful, just in case."

"Just in case," Sam echoed.

* * *

It took Sam almost half a day to get to Chicago and he felt a bit awkward driving in his brother's car by himself. The past Dean would have killed him for even contaminating his steering wheel, but Sam had long contended with the fact that the Dean of the past wasn't surfacing anytime soon.

It took him almost an hour to find the place he was looking for, and by the time he had parked and walked over, it was already getting dark.

He arrived at a shop called _Tee Total (for all your golfing needs)_, and looking at the piece of paper in his hands, confirmed this was the place he was looking for.

_This isn't exactly hunters' headquarters, _he thought. But then, maybe that was the point.

The shop looked ordinary enough. Hardly noticeable amongst the other shops along the street, and the woodwork wasn't exactly remarkable. In fact, it looked like the kind of shop no one ever visited.

Stepping through the door, he heard a bell ring overhead and looked down at the welcome mat on the floor. Purely out of intuition, he moved the mat slightly with his foot and noticed a deep wedge in and along the floor with salt in it. He covered the mat back over it.

The man at the counter looked at him with curiosity and before Sam approached him, he cast a quick glance around the shop. It was small, but appeared to have every kind of golf equipment anyone could ever want stacked up on various shelves. Sam would bet all his money that behind these shelves there were various protection runes. He walked to the counter and noticed a brown and black bloodhound dog sleeping beside it.

He smiled at the middle aged man with glasses.

"Hi," he said. "I'm wondering if you _have any argyle body wear in pink?"_ he asked, reiterating what the guy on the phone had told him to. He winced a little, hoping to God that it was code for something, rather than some crack pot wanting to make him look like a fool.

The man's eyes widened slightly.

"Hold on." He picked up a phone beside him. "Hey, Izzy? I've got a man here looking for some pink argyle." The man paused, listening. "Yeah, the guy's decked out in protection runes. I reckon he's pretty safe. Yeah, he's got that look. You'll be down in a bit? Uh-huh, okay, got it."

Sam's eyes widened at his words and then realised the protection amulet Bobby had given him was hanging out from his shirt and tucked it back in.

"She'll be down in a bit."

Sam nodded. _She? _He was surprised that the person he was meeting was a woman, quite frankly. There were few women in this business and for that he was glad. This job had the tendency to harden the hearts of anyone involved, and he hated seeing the fairer and more open hearted sex turn as emotionless and unfeeling as the rest of them, not that they couldn't be just as good a hunter as men. But then how was it fair for anyone having to do this?

He looked around the store again; his eyes catching sight of a book entitled_ How to love your wife as much as you love golf._ He grinned at this.

"Sam Winchester?" a familiar sounding voice called out.

He turned around, confused at hearing his name.

And stared in shock at the person standing before him.

Out of all the things he had ever expected, having his college life suddenly collide with his present one was not one of them.


	5. The Road I'm On

**Title:** Angels and Demons 1/?

**Chapter Title: **The Road I'm On

**Rating:** PG13 for now

**Words: **752  
**Pairing/Characters:** Sam, Dean, Bobby, OFC (friendship)

**Summary: **He needed a helping hand from Heaven before he could get his brother out of Hell. But can anyone ever be okay coming back from Hell? And exactly how do you stop the world from ending when you're not sure you can save yourself? Dean and Sam deal with the aftermath of Dean returning from Hell whilst realising that the present has a funny way of running into the past and discovering that demons and other such evil aren't the only things to walk this Earth.

**Disclaimer: **This world belongs to Kripke. I am just playing with it. Post NRFTW.

Dusk was falling and the skies started to grow darker.

Dean emerged from a house with slightly tousled hair, lipstick marks on his neck and a big smirk on his face.

He started walking back in the general direction of the motel. Truth be told, he wasn't much of a walker- why bother when he can drive the Impala anywhere? But since his return, the idea of being stuck inside his Impala bothered him strongly. In fact, the thought of being trapped anywhere remotely confining was rather unsettling. He had never been claustrophobic before, and yet the thought of being in his car gave him the feeling of the world falling in on him and a great pressure on the back of his head; as if someone was trying to force a nightmare on him. But walking in plain, open air gave him the sense of freedom; of not being held back.

…_Hell's a deep, dark evil place, Dean._

_Wasn't it funny all those times we made out that Hell was just a dream and you would awake in your precious Impala, drive away to find your beloved brother, but only for us to drag you back in and torture you over and over again? _

Dean held his head in pain as the memory of that particular voice filled his head.

A passer by stopped to ask whether he was okay, but Dean couldn't answer.

How could he forget?

Of all the things he could remember about Hell- and there were a few things, feelings mainly, that particular voice was not one of them. How was it possible that he'd buried the memory of that voice when he hated it so much? The voice that used to whisper to him constantly words of torture and hatred, and was so much worse than any evil found on Earth. The voice of all demons channelled into one, it taunted and teased and above all, made him believe he was as worthless and wicked as them all.

Head pounding, he struggled the rest of the way back to their room, and when he got there, fell immediately on the floor.

_Remember that time we let you see your dad, Dean? You had been wondering for a long time, even before you came here, whether you would encounter him. Oh, and the look on your face when you saw him! Eyeless, handless, tortured and mutilated! Of course, we don't actually have real bodies down here, but you still feel the pain we inflict. We can make you do and feel anything we want to. And your dad…oh, how we let him suffer. He would scream yours and poor little Sammy's name for you to help. But you didn't, did you Dean? Didn't even lift a finger…_

Dean screamed in pain, trying so desperately to push the memory and that particular voice out of his head. But it wouldn't budge.

_The next time we let you see him, daddy dearest was in the early stages of becoming a demon. When you saw his completely mutated figure and the evil resonating off him you didn't stop screaming for days, Dean. _

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" He yelled.

_And what about Sammy, Dean? Oh, how much you hoped he'd find a way to rescue you. We loved pretending that he had, and we loved taking that away from you. But that particular trick you never did fall for much, did you? We loved showing you how he was coping without you, though. The depths he had fallen to. That you always believed. _

_That Sam…we have plans for him yet. Big plans. You Winchesters, you offer us such joy. And we do so look forward to when it's our turn to play with Sammy. _

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD!" Mentally, he tried to recite the exorcism ritual, as if it would somehow rid him of the memories, but the voice took over.

_But you are by far our favourite toy, Dean, and we're not going to tire of you anytime soon._

_There's no escaping Hell, Dean._

_Just remember that. _

And just like that the voice went silent.

Dean looked up from his sprawled position on the floor, shaking uncontrollably.

Almost robotically, he got up and started drawing protection runes on the walls, and finding the bag of salt, drew himself a circle on the floor and sat in it, as if feeble protection rituals would protect him from the voice in his head.

Still shaking, he waited for his brother to return.


End file.
